Let it All Out
by I am The Lev
Summary: After a cavein, Guy and Morgan are forced to sort out where they stand with one another. Meanwhile, a joint rescue operation forces Allan and the gang to work together. WillDjaq, AllanMorgan, one sided GuyMarian
1. Dreaming

The water was up to her shoulders, and there was no one there to pull her out. She noticed someone in a boat, rowing past her.

"Nice day," Guy noted, pausing and looking around his small rowboat.

"Guy, can you help me?" Morgan asked, reaching a hand out. Guy shook his head.

"Sorry, Morgan. Eventually, you'll have to learn to swim," he apologized sincerely. The water rose above her head, filling her lungs as she coughed and sputtered. Guy stared at her and shook his head.

"You'll have to learn to swim," he repeated.

---

Morgan sat up far too quickly, banging her head against the low ceiling of the loft. Clutching her forehead in pain, she endeavored to roll to the side and curl up, only to roll out of the loft, tumbling to the ground with a thud. Will sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, stifling a yawn.

"That dream again?" he asked sleepily, trying to discern what time it was. Morgan nodded, noting that it was still dark outside. She stood, brushing the leaves from her clothes.

"You alright?" Will asked, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.

"Fine," Morgan replied. She was lying, but Will was already falling back into sleep, and he tended to miss things when he was so tired. The fire had only just died out, some of the kindling still glowing from the heat. Morgan thought longingly of starting the fire back up and perhaps forging some weapons. She couldn't, of course, unless she wanted to wake the whole camp up. She glanced over at Will, who hadn't hesitated to go back to sleep. He was lucky; carpentry was a much quieter field of profession than blacksmithing.

Morgan crawled out of the window, sneaking out into the crisp night air, staring up at the sky. The moon was but a tiny crescent, having yet to bloom to the fully lit orb that she had spent so many hours staring into. She walked along a path, not exactly knowing where she was going, but she supposed that it would make it more of an adventure if she didn't think about it. Part of her said that she should at least go back and get her sword, just in case she ran into a wild animal, but the rest of her told her that the knife at her belt was enough.

She wished that the moon were fuller, the distinct lack of light making it very hard to see. She wandered all the way to the North Road before she even realized it. The tree branches overhead knitted into a tight canopy, blocking out what little moonlight there had been. Morgan sighed. She could keep walking, running the risk of getting hopelessly lost in the woods (again.), or she could turn around and go back to camp. In the silence of her internal debate, she could hear the sound of the river, constantly flowing and constantly changing.

She thought of her dream and promptly sat on a fallen tree trunk, picking at the bark. She'd been having the dream for a long time. Since she first joined the gang, and that was months ago now. It was generally the same dream; she was always running through a field. She always stopped by a tree. There was always a flood. Only the people in her dream changed. Sometimes, she would meet Djaq at the tree, and sometimes it was her mother. Sometimes it was Will or Much or Little John, and once it had been the Sheriff, which honestly unnerved her.

When the flood waters began to rise, someone would come along in a boat, and that was the only part that really changed. There were only three people that would come along in the boat. It used to be her brother, Michael, who would hoist her out of the water, making sure that she was safe. After Michael had passed away, the man in the boat began to toggle between two people.

Sometimes, it was Robin in the boat. He would pull Morgan out of the water, only to let out a childish laugh just as she had gotten steady, pushing her back in. Other times, it was Guy, who would simply stare at her, watching her struggle against the flood. Struggle and fail.

Morgan didn't understand what it all meant. She rested her elbows on her knees, cupping her face in her hands. She didn't know that the dream was trying to tell her, but she knew that it was something important. A person doesn't have the same dream, every night, for months on end for no reason. She stared across the North Road, sitting and thinking. It was a combination that she didn't perform very often. Many made the mistake of assuming that she didn't stop to think at all. She supposed that was partially true. She never _stopped_ to think. She thought while she went along.

Outside of the gang, it had earned her the reputation of being the serendipitous one. Walking dumb luck, with the emphasis on the "dumb" part. She was the loud, bubbly, silly little girl that had gotten lucky enough to be swept away by Robin Hood's gang on his grand adventure. Of course, the gang knew that it wasn't true, so Morgan didn't really care. Ignoring the villagers' whispers had never been a problem for her.

Still, a part of her bristled at the unkind characterization. A part of her wanted to stand up in front of everyone and yell at the top of her lungs that she, Morgan Elizabeth Weaver, was a girl of passable intelligence and occasionally good plans and dreams. She sighed. Dreams. She had a lot of dreams. She dreamed of when King Richard would return. She dreamed of when the Black Knights would get what was coming to them. She shook her head. This whole "Black Knights" affair worried her.

On the one hand, it meant that the Sheriff would be removed and probably hung for treason. On the other, it meant that Guy would be in trouble, too. Morgan frowned. Guy of Gisborne, the man who so often let her drown in her dreams, was the source of a great deal of worry for Morgan. When she had first become an outlaw, the matter was black and white. Guy had lost his grip on his humanity, and Morgan had decided to fight against the tyranny of which he was a part. Now, as things had had time to settle, she wasn't so sure.

Growing up, Guy had always watched her back. He had treated her like a sister. She had to admit that when they were growing up, she was always impressed with Guy's noble countenance. Even after his parents died, and his lands were officially lost, he'd remained a close friend of the Weavers.

Things didn't really change until he and Michael, for the first time since forging their friendship, went separate ways. Morgan recalled the day that Michael had come home from the market, practically beaming as he explained that he was going to the Holy Lands, to fight against the Turk in the name of King Richard. At that point, Morgan's mother was still well, and when Morgan had stared at her brother, travel-lust in her eyes, Elene had encouraged her only daughter to go ahead.

Morgan shifted slightly on the tree trunk, stretching her legs out and heaving a sigh. She couldn't quite wrap her head around the fact that this had only happened in the past five years. In five years, she had gone from a blacksmith apprentice to an outlaw. In five years, she had gone from completely trusting Guy to fighting on the opposite side. Even though there was an obvious schism in their friendship, and things could never truly go back to the way they had once been, Morgan couldn't help but think that she had gotten Guy all wrong.

Without warning, an arrow flew past her head. She was on her feet in an instant, trying to find its origin. And there he was, sitting on his horse, notching another arrow.

"Don't move, outlaw! Next time, I will not miss!" he barked, his voice echoing through the night. Morgan wondered if that ever actually worked, because it definitely didn't work with her. She took off immediately, picking a path the wound through the trees. If he wanted to catch her, he was going to have to get off of his horse and follow her on foot.

The crunching of dead leaves behind her said that he had indeed decided to pursue her, and she grumbled under her breath. Despite her initial restlessness, she was actually growing quite tired. She took a sharp left, heading towards a system of caves. The gang didn't use them because they were unstable, but Morgan saw little choice. She could tell that he was gaining on her, partially from the way that she could hear his breathing, and partially from the arrow that he had just planted in her shoulder.

She bit back a cry of pain, ignoring the wound as she ducked into the caves, taking refuge in the shadows. Guy followed her inside, listening intently. She clamped a hand over her mouth, knowing that her panting would undoubtedly be heard in the high-ceilinged cavern.

"Come out, outlaw!" Guy shouted. "Come out and face me, and maybe we can work out a deal!" His voice bounced off of the stone walls of the cave. Morgan could've sworn that she heard the shifting of rock, but Guy was shouting so loud that she couldn't be sure. She heard him fumbling with something in the dark, and she nearly jumped as a fire roared to life, the torch light casting eerie shadows across Guy's features. Morgan slid behind a stalagmite, wincing as the arrow protruding from her shoulder pushed against the rock.

"I know you're in here, and I know you're wounded. I can wait until you bleed to death," Guy hollered again. Morgan looked up at the ceiling. She had definitely heard the rocks shifting. She ran out from her hiding place, pulling Guy backwards as the rocks tumbled to the ground where he had just stood. The noise was thunderous, and the force of the impact threw them both to the ground. The torch snuffed out immediately, and Morgan could only curl up, throwing her arms over her head, praying furiously for their safety.

Just as soon as it had started, it was all over. Morgan picked herself off of the ground, coughing as the dust seeped into her lungs.

"Guy?" she asked, "are you alright?" The outlaw in her screamed that the question was stupid, and that she shouldn't have given away her position like that. She ignored the outlaw in her, calling again.

"Guy, answer me!" she said through her coughs. She heard someone move and tried to trace the sound back, cursing the echoing quality of the cave and the pitch blackness that seemed to press against her skin. Suddenly, the torch flickered back to life, and Guy held it aloft as he drew his sword.

"In the name of the Sheriff of Nottingham, I am hereby placing you under arrest," he said calmly. Morgan rolled her eyes. She guessed that it was some kind of silly man-thing, trying to carry on with duty in a situation like this.

"Put that thing away, Guy," she muttered, brushing her clothes off, craning her neck to get a better look at the arrow protruding from her shoulder. Guy didn't listen, and Morgan couldn't say that she found it surprising.

"Morgan, you're an outlaw. You tried to kill me. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slit your throat," he growled, pointing his sword.

"Be strategic, Guy. We're trapped in a cave, in the deepest part of Sherwood. Who do you think is more likely to find us here?" Morgan snapped, hands on her hips. Guy's dogmatic resolve faltered, and he lowered his sword.

"Robin Hood," he answered.

"Right. Now, if I'm dead, do you think that they're going to try and rescue you?" she answered, using that annoying tone that she had used when they were little, the one she used when she knew she was right. "Now, put that sword away. Anyway, it hardly seems appropriate that you should kill me with something that I made." This time, much to her relief, he sheathed his weapon and stepped closer.

"You're hurt," he stated, reaching to her shoulder. Morgan turned, pulling away.

"Yes, that would be from when you shot me," she snapped.

"Well, I told you I wouldn't miss," he retorted. "Now, let me see it. I have some medical supplies."

"So, you shoot me, then threaten me, then offer to fix me?" Morgan asked, the venom in her voice the result of years of practice. Guy took a deep breath. What was it with him and women? Why could he never get the ones he cared about to listen to a single word he said? He stopped that particular line of thought. He didn't care about Morgan anymore; he wasn't allowed to. Sheriff's orders.

"Will you just let me see the wound?" he asked, clearly exasperated. He knew that Morgan was willful, but he also knew that she wasn't stupid. Slowly, she took a step closer, turning so he could see the arrow. He wedged the torch in a niche in the wall, stepping closer to inspect the wound. He had had very little medical training, but he knew what had to be done. Without asking Morgan, or telling her what he planned to do, he roughly took hold of the arrow and gave it a sharp tug, pulling it from her back. She yelled in protest and started to turn around to let him have a piece of her mind. Sensing her anger, Guy held the arrow in front of her.

"I can put it back, if that suits you better," he muttered dryly. Morgan crossed her arms across her chest, going into the familiar pout that Guy so fondly remembered. He stared at her shirt, which was quickly staining with blood.

"You need to bare your shoulder, so I can clean the wound," he explained. Muttering under her breath, she pulled the sleeve from her shoulder, cringing as she heard the fabric rip from the arrow hole. She sighed, lamenting the loss of what had been her favorite shirt. Guy began to clean the wound out, his bedside manner almost as lacking as his gentleness.

"Ow," Morgan hissed pointedly as he dug the dirt out. He eased up a bit.

"Morgan, can you do this yourself?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"Then shut up and let me focus," he replied curtly. So, Morgan shut up as he slowly stitched the injury. He stepped back, inspecting his work by the light of the torch. It wasn't the best stitching in the world, but it would suffice.

"Thank you," Morgan muttered, turning around to face him, holding her sleeve in place. "Now, how do you propose that we try to escape?" Guy looked around at the wall of stone that now separated them from the outside world. There was no way that they could move all of the rocks by themselves. He looked to the back of the cave, noting the lack of any cracks in the rock or tunnels that could possibly lead to freedom.

"I don't have any ideas," he admitted. Morgan chewed on her bottom lip, the gesturing telling Guy that she was just as clueless as he was. Threads of moonlight slipped between the cracks of the makeshift wall, taunting them.

"Well, I suppose we're just stuck with each other, aren't we?" she sighed, sitting down on the floor of the cave. Guy slowly did the same. For a moment, they sat there, staring at each other, saying nothing.

"This is awkward," Guy muttered flatly, barely finishing before Morgan nodded with agreement.

---

Yes, yes. This story will finally work out just what the heck is up between Guy and Morgan! This story will explain Morgan's insane flood dream. This story will have drama and suspense!

Well, perhaps not so much of the last one, but the first two, definitely.

Hope you all enjoy! Please review!


	2. Waking

Guy put out the torch. They had just been sitting there for hours, looking anywhere but at each other. They certainly didn't need light for that. He sat back down, tapping his fingers against the ground. Of all the outlaws to get stuck in a cave with, it had to be her. It had to be the one person who knew him before he became the ruthless Guy of Gisborne, right hand of the Sheriff. It had to be the one person who knew him as Guy of Gisborne, the one who used to come round when they were young.

What had happened to that carefully built friendship? True, Guy had been much closer to Michael. He had befriended Morgan by happenstance. Michael had been his friend, and Morgan was Michael's little sister that liked to play with the boys. He would've written her off as just another silly girl, but he found that she was intriguing. Something about her caught his interest and held it.

She was a lot like Michael in the way that siblings should be. They had similar physical features: the same green eyes and the same raven colored hair. They had similar quirks: their facial expressions and other such mannerisms. But Michael was well-mannered. Michael had a formal side. Michael was unfailingly honest and morally upright. Morgan didn't care about manners as far as dealing with classes. Morgan had a wild side. Morgan was usually truthful, but would toe the line. She wouldn't just toe the line, she'd dance up and down it, laughing as it would become tangled and skewed.

His eyes sought her out in the dark cavern. With the precious bits of moonlight that trickled through, he could barely make out her figure. She was hugging her knees to her chest. Her head rested on top of her knees, and it took Guy a moment to work out that she was sleeping. He was relieved. When she woke up, she would want to talk about all the things that had happened. Not just about Michael's death. Not just about her decision to join Robin Hood. Not just about the events of the past few months. She'd want to talk about how the bonds that they had made when they were young had started to decay.

He looked back to the newly formed door of their stone prison. The moonlight was fading, which could only mean that the sun would soon rise, heralding the beginning of a new day. Guy sighed again. For most people, a new day meant new hope. For him, it just meant another day that he would hate. Morgan would have the hope of her friends coming to find her. Guy did not have that hope. The Sheriff hadn't come for him the first time he'd gotten held up in Sherwood. He hadn't even sent help. Guy had no reason to believe that the Sheriff would change his ways. He hated to admit it, but if they had any hope of getting out, it rested with Robin Hood and his gang.

---

The water was rising faster than it ever had before. She made an honest effort, but her inexperience and the pain pulsing through her shoulder didn't help. The surface was only inches away, but she found that she couldn't reach it. Through the thin layer of water that separated her from precious oxygen, she could see him staring down at her, shaking his head.

"You have to learn to swim," he mouthed.

---

Morgan woke with a start, initially put off by the lack of light. The events of the evening past gradually floated back into her head, and she sought out what used to be the entrance of a cave. It must've been daytime by now, a fact made obvious by the quantity of the light the managed to wriggle through the cracks in the rock wall. There was certainly more of it, but there was a veiled quality to it. The sun was definitely up, but it seemed that it was obscured by clouds.

"You were having a nightmare," Guy suddenly commented, causing Morgan to jump. She wasn't entirely sure if he could see it, but she glared at him anyway.

"I wasn't," she said defensively, stretching out, feeling her muscles protest from the awkward position in which she had fallen asleep. She heard Guy scoff.

"Why are you being so difficult? I was only making an observation," he pointed out.

"An incorrect observation," Morgan hissed. "I wasn't having a nightmare." She didn't need to see him to know that he was shaking his head. This knowledge only served to bolster her agitation, and she got to her feet, starting to pace.

"Will you stop that? It's not going to help," Guy muttered, easily annoyed by the clicking echoes of her footsteps.

"I'm trying to think," Morgan replied.

"Don't try too hard," Guy sneered, standing and leaning against the wall of the cave. "It wouldn't do for you to give yourself a headache."

"It wouldn't do for me to put my boot through your teeth either, but it'll happen if you don't shut up, you unfeeling, leather-clad hell-spawn!"

---

Allan stretched, sitting up in his bed. He loved Sundays the best. Sundays meant that he didn't have to go to the castle and work. Sundays meant that he could sleep in as long as he pleased. Sundays meant no uniform, although you couldn't tell by looking at Guy, who always wore the same leather outfit. When he was an outlaw, he often joked that Guy's wardrobe must've been filled with the exact, same outfit. When he had joined Guy, he was surprised to find that he had been correct.

Allan clambered out of bed and lazily washed, pulling on a simple white long sleeve and the most comfortable pair of trousers he owned. He leaned out of the front window of the small cottage, taking in the activity in Locksley. The weather could've been better. Allan stared up at the sky for a moment, taking in the thick, dark clouds overhead. He sighed, knowing that it would storm, though the fact honestly didn't disappoint him. Stormy weather made excellent weather for a kip.

He stared out at the village, watching the villagers go about their business. Children were chasing each other around, secretly playing some version of Robin Hood, if Allan had to guess. Women sat in their little circles, knitting or doing embroidery, he couldn't tell which, gossiping as they watched their children play. Guy's horse was ambling through the town, completely unattended, and the tomatoes were coming in quite nicely.

Allan paused, his eyes snapping back to the horse. He left his little cottage, taking the beast by the reins and leading him back to the stable. What was Guy's favorite horse doing wandering around like that? Allan was sure that Guy wouldn't have been so careless as to leave the stable open. As Allan removed the saddle from the horse, Thornton rounded the corner.

"Ah, Master Allan," he said, rather chipper. "It's unusual to see you up and about this early on a Sunday."

"Please, don't call me 'Master,'" Allan sighed.

"Very well, sir. I take it that Master Guy has returned from Nottingham, then?" Thornton asked, gesturing at the horse. Allan frowned.

"He didn't get back last night?" he asked. Thornton shook his head.

"You don't suppose harm has come to him, do you?" he asked.

"No," Allan replied calmly, lying through his teeth. "No, I think he's fine. He's a big boy; he can take care of himself."

---

"I hate you!" she screamed launching herself onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck, squeezing. He choked for a moment, the spots cropping up in front of his eyes. Suddenly, with amazing clarity of thought, he bent forward, flipping her off of his body, slamming her onto the ground. She managed to avoid hitting her shoulder, but in doing so twisted her lower back in a less than comfortable way.

"I hate you more!" he growled, sending his foot flying at her face. She rolled to the side, grabbing him by the ankle, simply directing his foot forward, sending him toppling to the dirty cave floor. Neither of them was entirely sure how this fight had started, but both of them knew it wouldn't be the last, not unless a rescue party dug through the rock in that exact instant. They stayed there, panting heavily, lying next to each other, sneaking glares.

"You know, if we run out of air from all this fighting, it'll be your fault," Morgan pointed out. To her surprise, Guy broke out into a laugh. Not a low chuckle. Not an amused scoff. An honest to God laugh.

"You don't even remember how this started, do you?" he accused slyly. Morgan shook her head, regaining control of her breathing, slowly sitting up.

"You do?" she asked.

"I believe you called me an unfeeling, leather-clad hell-spawn," Guy recalled casually.

"Ah," Morgan replied simply. "So I did." She gingerly traced the area around her eye, were she knew a bruise would form.

"Still, you didn't have to punch me in the face. I'm going to look like a raccoon," she commented. She noticed that Guy was still laughing, and she scoffed in amusement.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you remember the time when Michael got that black eye while we were fighting, and you told your mother that he had run into a particularly low tree-branch?" he asked. Morgan found herself smiling at the memory.

"What was I supposed to tell her? She wouldn't believe that you were fighting. Not polite, pleasant Guy," she teased, grinning. The grin was short lived, however, as was their moment of laughter. "Guy, what happened?"

"Time happened," Guy replied in a dull voice, and suddenly, he was not so keen to talk. He sat up, turning his back on her. Morgan would not accept this, and he knew it, but perhaps she would grant him more time to gather his thoughts. He heard her climb back to her feet, walking past him. She placed a hand on the pile of rocks that had sealed them inside the wretched cave, trapping them with their memories and somewhat confused loyalties.

"We've got to find a way to make this place more noticeable," she muttered, peeking through one of the small openings. Rain had started to pour down by the bucket, lightning painting the sky before the thunder rolled through like a hungry beast.

"How do you make a pile of rocks more noticeable?" she asked out loud, hoping that Guy would at least try to answer. He didn't, and she assumed that he wouldn't talk for fear of the conversation that they both knew would come.

---

If Guy was not fighting off a pack of wolves, if he was not lying in a ditch, slowly bleeding to death, if his life wasn't in mortal danger, Allan was going to kill him. The rain was coming down hard that he could barely see three feet in front of him. His eyes were glued on the ground, trying desperately to keep track of the marked hoof prints of Guy's horse. He stooped down, following the meandering trail, hoping to find the point where they didn't look like the pathway of a drunk on parade. The twisted path that he was currently tracking meant that the horse had been wandering without a rider. If he could just find where Guy had gotten off his horse, he could find Guy. Or, at least he hoped so and the rain washed over him, soaking him to the bone.

"Stand and deliver!" a voice called out, and Allan heaved a heavy sigh. He didn't need this. Not now.

"There are people going hungry! Tell us what you have, be honest with us…" Robin called through the rain.

"And you'll only take one tenth. I know," Allan interrupted, drawing his hood from his face. It had become so saturated with water that it wasn't doing any good anyway. Getting used to the routine of running into the gang, he raised his arms. It was true, they had accepted his act of bravery only weeks before, but they still regarded him with careful suspicion. He was, after all, still "Sir Guy's man." As Will had pointed out the week before, when Nottingham was supposed to be razed, there was no coming back from that.

"What do you want, Allan?" Robin asked, stepping out from behind a tree. Allan waited for the rest of the gang to surround him, but they did not, meaning that Robin was alone.

"I don't want anything. I'm looking for Guy," he admitted. "Although, if you could tell Morgan not to come around tonight, that would be brilliant." Robin frowned, stepping closer.

"Morgan? You mean she's not been with you?" he asked.

"Of course not. She knows better than to come around in the daytime," Allan explained. Robin's question prompted him to ask one of his own. "She's not at the camp?"

"And Guy is missing?" Robin asked, as if putting pieces of a puzzle together. The former comrades exchanged glances.

"Damn it," Allan voiced for the both of them.

---

Guy stood up, noticing that he was suddenly very uncomfortable. He looked down, frowning at the water that was beginning to gather on the ground, pooling up at an alarming rate.

"Morgan," he said calmly. "How tight would you say the rocks are?"

"Pretty tight. I doubt that any of that rain will even get in here," Morgan commented, still staring at the rock wall that was holding them hostage.

"Wouldn't be so sure about that," Guy muttered. At this comment, Morgan looked down, noticing that there was quite a bit of water at her feet.

"Where's it coming from?" she asked, hiding the panic in her voice quite well. Guy shrugged, glancing around the dark cave. He quickly lit the torch, walking around to the back of the cavern, taking a far closer look than he did before. Behind a particularly thick rock formation, he could hear the rushing sound of flowing water. The water was funneling through from somewhere, pouring into the cave. _Alright, don't panic, Guy. It's probably not as bad as you think. We're probably not even near the river_, he thought, keeping himself calm. Still, he had to ask.

"Are we near the river?" Guy asked. Morgan nodded.

"Right next to it, actually," she noted. Guy seemed to take the information in, keeping as calm as possible. It wouldn't do to have the second most powerful man in Nottingham lose his head at the first sign of a problem. "Guy is there something wrong?"

"Let me put it this way, Morgan. If you want to have that heartfelt chat that you've been hinting at for the last few hours, you better start now. Because unless I am mistaken, we'll be knee deep in water in an hour's time."

---

Dun dun duuuun! Sorry to leave off on such a cliffhanger! Really, I am! I'll try to get the next chapter up by tomorrow night, but I'm afraid that it won't be any sooner than that. shakes a fist at exams.

Notes on this chapter: Robin's "Stand and deliver" line comes from one of my favorite Monty Python sketches. Ten points if you know which one.

I also enjoyed TryingNotToPanic!Guy. A little OOC, I know, but I think he's entitled, seeing as this is probably one of the most awkward situations he's ever been in.

So, yes. I hope you all enjoy. Please review!


	3. Seeking

Robin was glad that Will Scarlet existed, especially as he ducked into the camp. Though the ground was wet from the water that was running down the hill, Robin found that he had escaped the rain drops that had soaked him to the bone. It was also much quieter, and he found that he didn't have to raise his voice to be heard, unlike in his brief meeting with Allan.

"Did anyone see Morgan leave the camp last night?" he asked without introduction, the urgency in his voice leaving no room for questions. Unfortunately, it garnered few answers. Will's brow knitted together, and he tentatively offered information.

"I'm not sure, but I think I did." He sounded unconvinced, but Robin clung to the ray of hope and gave the carpenter a look of encouragement. Will paused before he continued. "She was heading north." Even though Will was nearly sure that he'd been dreaming, it was the closest thing they had to solid information. Robin nodded.

"Right, then. We're heading north," he ordered calmly.

"Is Morgan alright?" Djaq asked, tying her sword belt around her waist. Robin dragged his hand down his face, preparing himself to answer her question.

"Gisborne went missing last night in the forest. If Morgan was out wandering around, he might have seen her," he explained, trying to make the situation sound less serious than it was, reminding himself that it was entirely possible that Guy hadn't found Morgan, and the two were merely wandering about the woods. Morgan had gotten lost before, and the previous night had hosted the ideal conditions.

Still, if Gisborne had found her, she could be in trouble. Despite the gravity of the situation, a smile tugged at Robin's lips. If Gisborne _had_ found Morgan, Robin almost worried more for the Black Knight's safety than for Morgan's. Contrary to her normally sweet nature, Morgan could get downright vicious in a fight.

He led the others from the camp, doing his best to not look so preoccupied. Much put a hand on his shoulder, seeing straight through the air of calm.

"Master, surely, she'll be alright. She can handle herself in a scrape. Besides, Gisborne is sort of friends with her, isn't he? Maybe he'd let her go," he suggested reassuringly.

---

"This isn't my fault," Morgan said defensively. Guy rolled his eyes.

"You're the one that ran into the dangerous cave," he mentioned.

"Oh, so sorry that I wasn't thinking clearly. That tends to happen when people shoot me in the shoulder," she snapped.

"I wouldn't have shot you if hadn't run away," Guy repeated.

"If I hadn't run, you would've had me arrested," Morgan countered. "You made that much clear."

"I didn't know that it was you," Guy offered.

"Would that have made a difference?" Morgan asked, bringing them back to the matter that they'd both been avoiding thus far. Guy wanted to slap himself in the face. How did she keep steering the conversation like that? _Must be a girl thing,_ he thought sourly.

"Well, what do you want from me?" Guy asked, agitated that Morgan hadn't started talking yet. He just didn't understand women. They said "no" when they meant "yes." They complained about wanting to talk and then sat in silence. They said that they were upset then didn't explain their reasons. Guy was beginning to understand the Sheriff's leper mentality.

Guy had tried to coax an answer from Morgan ever since his blunt announcement that the cave was flooding, but she wasn't exactly cooperating. She didn't look like she wanted to talk at all, her arms crossed across her chest, her back mostly turned on him, her eyes narrowed. Guy had finally given up on dancing around the matter and asked her directly.

"I want to know who I am," Morgan answered, apparently unaware of just how cryptic the reply had been. Perhaps Guy's confused look had given her some inkling; she calmly explained her demand. "I want to know who I am to you. I want to know if I'm Morgan Weaver, you're best mate's little sister, or if I'm Morgan Weaver, one of Robin Hood's lot."

"Morgan, you're both," Guy answered frankly. Morgan shook her head.

"No. I'm one or the other. This isn't a situation where we can have both," she said emphatically. "You have to make a choice."

---

_"It just doesn't make sense," A twelve-year-old Guy repeated, rubbing at his neck. He leaned against the tree, staring up at the branch where a nine-year-old Morgan sat, swinging her legs as she peered down at her brother and his best friend. A twelve-year-old Michael gave an amused sort of snort, shifting the piece of hay in his mouth to talk._

_"It's a saying, Guy," he muttered, absently weaving pieces of grass in his hand._

_"I understand that," Guy replied, "I just don't understand what it means."_

_"You can't have your cake and eat it, too," Morgan reiterated, hooking her legs on the branch and leaning back, dangling upside down._

_"Yes, you said that before, and I still don't get it. It's my cake, isn't it?" Guy asked pointedly. "So, why can't I have it as well?" Morgan crossed her arms over her chest._

_"Because you have to make a choice," she explained. Guy stared at her for a moment._

_"Morgan, you are a well of information," he muttered sarcastically. Morgan replied by sticking her tongue out, a gesture that Guy discretely returned. Michael laughed, finishing off the circlet that he'd weaved, setting it on Guy's head like a crown._

_"Look at it like this. You have a cake," Michael started, holding an imaginary cake in his outstretched palm. "And you think to yourself that it is a lovely looking cake. So, you eat it." He closed his palm to demonstrate that the imaginary cake had been imaginarily consumed, then opened his hand, playfully pushing Guy in the side of the head._

_"Yes, alright," Guy accepted, laughing as he pushed Michael back._

_"Well, if I came along and asked you for some cake, what would you say?" Michael asked._

_"That I can't give you any cake because I've eaten it," Guy replied._

_"Which brings us to the point that Morgan was trying to make earlier. You can't have the cake and eat it. Because once you make the choice to eat the cake, you don't have the cake anymore," Michael finished. The Weaver siblings looked expectantly at Guy, waiting for his response. He thought about it for a moment, rubbing his chin as he mulled it over._

_"Yes, but what if I only eat half of the cake?" he asked triumphantly. The look on Michael's face told Guy that he'd trumped his best friend. Morgan, however, grinned from ear to ear._

_"Then you'd be a smart arse," she commented. "The cake really isn't the point. The point is that you're supposed to make a choice."_

---

Guy had remained silent long enough that Morgan had grown frustrated, wading across the cave, staring at the far wall, giving him the cold shoulder until he complied with her request. He hardly thought that it was a fair request for her to make.

"Why do I have to choose?" he asked suddenly. Morgan turned to face him, but she didn't give him an answer. He pressed the question again. "Why do I have to make the decision?"

"Because you're the one with divided loyalties," she muttered. Guy scoffed incredulously, knowing that there was something else behind it. Hearing his protest, Morgan felt the need to continue. "Who am I talking to now? Am I talking to the Guy of Gisborne that shot me in the shoulder last night? Or am I talking to the Guy of Gisborne who let me visit Allan when he was sick?"

"That depends," Guy shot back. "Am I talking to the Morgan Weaver that helped Robin Hood break into the castle? Or am I talking to the Morgan Weaver who helped me commit treason?" The last question stopped Morgan in her tracks, just as Guy had predicted it would.

"I would _never_," she began. Guy laughed, cutting her off.

"Don't insult me. I saw you in the Holy Land, Morgan. I saw you in the port, and I know that you saw me. You could've gone to the King and reported me, but you didn't. You pretended not to notice and sailed back to England," he practically purred, like a cat playing with a mouse. "You're the reason that I got away with what I did. You could've seen me hanged for treason, but you did nothing. Because you couldn't bring yourself to betray me."

"Don't flatter yourself," Morgan returned. "Michael told me to keep quiet. He believed that you could be redeemed. That you could be saved."

"And you agreed with him," Guy added. Morgan didn't deny it.

"I did," she confirmed. "At least until you tried to use me as bait to lure in Robin Hood." Guy recognized the hurt in her voice and suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Morgan had only said one sentence, stated one fact, but her tone said so much more. Guy had humiliated her. He had forced her into an engagement that neither one of them had wanted. He had used her as bait. He had endangered her life with no visible sign of remorse.

"That was the Sheriff's idea," he mumbled, feeling that he should explain things.

"Glad to hear that you tried to go against it," Morgan congratulated sardonically.

"Morgan, it wasn't that simple! I cannot go against the Sheriff without jeopardizing my position," Guy said sharply.

"Do you listen to yourself when you talk?" Morgan asked. "Your position honestly meant more to you than our friendship?" Guy sighed, rubbing his temples, noticing that the water had risen to his knees. If he had to choose how to spend the last hours of his life, he definitely wouldn't have chosen "arguing with a woman," especially not one who was so sharp-tongued.

---

"What was I thinking? Why did I go back to sleep?" Will asked. He blamed himself for Morgan's disappearance, though he knew that it didn't really make much sense for him to do so. Morgan was a hardheaded person. If she had wanted to leave, Will doubted that he could've stopped her. Still, his brotherly instinct scolded him, telling him that he should've at least detected that something had been wrong with her. Instead, he'd happily accepted her obvious lie and gone back to sleep.

"Will, we're going to find her," Will had expected such a comment from Robin, but he was pleasantly surprised to hear Djaq's voice, to feel her hand on his shoulder. Will glanced up at the sky, squinting as the rain hammered down on their little search party.

"I hope so," he muttered.

"I know so," Djaq reassured. Will put his arm around her shoulder, giving her a quick hug. It always sounded much more plausible when she said it.

---

Allan cursed the heavy rain for making the task of tracing the hoof prints rather difficult. He cursed Robin for slowing him down with his stupid attempted mugging. To a certain extent, he cursed Guy and Morgan for getting lost in the woods in the first place. On the bright side, he'd managed to find the point at which Guy had left his horse. He looked around, trying to work out what had happened.

"He was coming back from Nottingham, heading to Locksley," Allan mused out loud, reviewing what he knew. He turned to face the general direction of Locksley.

"He was riding along, and he saw something that made him stop," he continued, scanning the forest in front of him, trying to figure out just what Guy had seen. He spotted what he had been looking for, planted firmly in a fallen tree trunk at the side of the road. He walked over to the tree and plucked the black arrow out, inspecting it.

"So, he sees someone, shoots at them, and misses. Bravo, Guy," he commented under his breath. He looked at the ground by the tree trunk. There were foot prints, though they had mostly washed away in the rain.

"So, assuming that he was shooting at Morgan, Morgan made a run for it," he concluded. "So, why did Guy get off of his horse?"

"Because she ran into the trees," someone answered. Allan recognized that someone as Little John, who stepped out of the trees with the rest of the gang. The woodsman's answer had made sense, and Allan followed the faded foot prints into the trees. He was rather hoping to avoid the usual, awkward conversation that generally followed when he met up with the gang. The gang obviously agreed, following him into the trees, looking for any sign of what had happened next.

"She ran into the trees, and he obviously followed her. She was trying to lose him in the woods, so she would've looked for a place to hide," Much picked up. "Probably somewhere risky."

"Hoping that Gisborne wouldn't follow her," Djaq surmised, "She's a clever girl when she wants to be."

"Of course she's clever," Allan murmured, shoving his hands in pockets, staring into the forest. "It's part of her charm."

"The caves," Much said, "She went to the caves."

"The caves by the river?" Robin asked, already heading in that general direction. "Even if she was trying to get away from Guy, she wouldn't run into the caves. She knows that they're prone to cave ins."

"She wouldn't trap herself, she'd turn and fight," Allan agreed. "Unless she couldn't." He held up the black arrow. He hadn't found Guy's bow or quiver, which meant that he had probably been chasing Morgan with them.

"Either way, we've got to hurry. When it rains like this, the river rises and funnels into those caves," Will muttered. "If they're stuck inside…" The caves came into view, and the gang sped ahead, rushing to the blocked off entrance.

"You better stay quiet, Allan," Little John cautioned. "If Gisborne is in there, he'll hear you." Allan nodded, hanging back as Robin approached the makeshift wall.

"Morgan? Are you in there?" he called. There was a tense moment in which they could hear water sloshing around.

"Robin?" Morgan's voice came. They could tell that she was trying not to sound scared. Allan moved forward, keeping silent.

"Morgan, what happened?" Robin asked, searching for any weakness in the rock wall.

"That's not important! The cave is flooding, Robin," Morgan said. "There aren't enough gaps in the rock to let the water out. You've got to get us out of here!"

"Morgan, calm down. We'll do everything that we can," Robin promised. "Hold tight. We're going to come up with a plan!" He began to lead the gang away from the cave, giving them opportunity to come up with something.

"Robin, wait!" Morgan called. Her hand slipped through one of the largest gaps. "Take my ring."

"What?" Robin asked, stepping back to the wall.

"Take me ring," Morgan repeated in a low voice. "If I don't… If you can't… Make sure that he…" She couldn't seem to finish any of her sentences, but Robin somehow understood.

"Morgan, don't talk like that. We're going to get you out of there," he repeated. Allan chewed his bottom lip, finding it harder to stay quiet.

"Robin, don't argue with me. Please," Morgan said, wiggling her fingers. Robin sighed, running his fingers through his hair before removing the ring from her finger.

"I'll give it back to you once we get you out of there," he said stubbornly, nodding to the rest of the gang. Allan stayed behind a second longer, watching as Morgan retracted her hand. Just as it was about to slip away, he grabbed it. She recognized his touch and immediately pushed her hand back out, pressing her palm to his, their fingers intertwined.

"Allan," Will hissed quietly, beckoning for the former outlaw to follow him. Allan gave Morgan's hand a gentle squeeze, reluctantly pulling away. Will tentatively put a hand on Allan's shoulder. "Allan, I know you're worried, but try to keep your wits about you. We'll get her out of there." Allan was glad that Will Scarlet existed.

---

I'm so sorry that this took so long! I am getting my butt kicked by writer's block, but it should be easily remedied by watching a new episode of Robin Hood! Whee!

So, yes. I don't really have a lot to say about this chapter, except that it's the preface to a lot of Guy and Morgan friendship!angst. There will also be a lot of references to my other stories, so if you haven't read them, you may want to do so.

I liked the Will and Allan friendship fluff at the end there. I snuck little bits of fluff in here and there, but it wasn't abundant. Sorry about that!

Anyway, the next few chapters will be pretty slow coming. I apologize in advance, but I really want to work out all of the details because they're really important for the rest of my plans for the Morgan Stories, which, sadly, will soon be coming to an end.

That having been said, I hope that you all enjoyed! Please review!


	4. Discovering

Morgan slipped her hand back into the cave, staring at it for a moment, resisting the urge to press her fingers to her face, to absorb the lingering feel of his touch into her lips. She hadn't stopped by to see him for several days. At the time, it hadn't been anything. They were going to be married. They would have the rest of their lives to be with one another, so what was a couple of days?

Now, with the water at her waist, the couple of days meant everything. Every second of every minute of every hour that she could have spent with him tugged at her heartstrings, plaguing her with regret. She could've been with him. She should've been with him. Every moment that she had spent lying around camp, playing cards with Will and telling the stories that she'd heard in the Holy Land, could've been spent in his embrace.

She felt the now-vacant spot on her ring finger, swallowing hard, trying not to think about the water that was steadily rising, the awkward company that fate had shoved into the cave with her, or the fact that she was getting a bit peckish. Her stomach rumbled loudly, serving as a reminder of the last fact, and she could not tear her thoughts away from the flood or from Guy.

"Are you hungry?" Guy asked, opening his coat. He reached into a pocket, pulling out a lightly wrapped piece of meat. He held it out to her.

"It's jerky," he muttered. Morgan hesitated for a moment, wading through the water and breaking off a piece, trying not to wolf it down.

"Thanks," she mumbled, chewing on the bit of jerky in her mouth, smiling in spite of herself. Guy noticed and frowned.

"Morgan, I fail to see the humor of our predicament," he said pointedly. She grinned widely.

"I was just thinking. You had medical supplies, a torch, and food. How much room do you have in your coat?" She placed her hand on his stomach, pressing lightly on his abs. "Not being funny, but it's not like there's much room in there. You wear everything pretty tight, you show-off." She had slipped back into a teasing, light-hearted tone, though Guy could tell that it was somewhat forced. Morgan was worried.

"My choice in attire, however amusing you might find it, is actually quite functional when one considers my line of work," he said professionally. He reflected on that statement, realizing that he was lying. The tight leather was sometimes rather bothersome. Still, he felt particularly intimidating when he wore it, so he dealt with the occasional discomfort. "Besides, look at you."

"Me?" Morgan asked, raising an eyebrow as she glanced down at her clothes. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"You dress like a boy," Guy remarked. "You always wear breeches and shirts. Would it kill you to go in a skirt once and a while?"

"It might," Morgan replied with a smile, pulling up the tattered sleeve of her shirt. "When one considers my line of work. It's difficult to run away from the castle guard in a skirt."

"How would you know that? You've never worn a skirt in your life," Guy joked, noticing the trouble she was having with her sleeve. He slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders.

"Functional, my arse!" Morgan laughed in an unusual method of thanks, slipping her arms into the sleeves. "This coat weighs a ton!" Guy shook his head, amused by the fact that the sleeves were too long for her, covering her hands. He watched as the bottom of the coat dipped into the water, reminding him of Morgan's short stature. She'd be overcome by the flood water long before he would.

"Morgan," he began, concerned. "Did you ever learn to swim?" The laughter fell from Morgan's features, answering his question before she could shake her head in response.

"Do they know that?" Guy asked. Morgan hesitated to answer.

"Much knows," she admitted. "I don't think that anyone else does." Just as it had before, the mood in the flooding cave had performed a complete turnaround in a matter of minutes.

"Does he know why?" Guy asked, pressing the more important bit of Morgan's aquatic inabilities. Morgan stared at him, the fear creeping into her eyes.

"No. You're the only one who knows that." The emphasis in her voice implied that she would prefer it stayed that way, as Guy's hints dragged up a memory that she had tried so hard to bury. Twenty years worth of hidden sorrow tore at her insides, demanding an outlet, shattering the mask of bliss that she had worn for so long.

"Morgan," Guy began quickly, putting a hand on her shoulder, recognizing the broken gaze and the way that her shoulders had begun to shake with repressed sobs. "You can't do this now. You have to keep it together. It was all an accident."

"Doesn't change the fact that it happened," Morgan shivered.

---

_Morgan had barely turned six. She was chasing the miller's son, Arnold, engaged in an intense game of tag. Michael and Guy were following lazily behind them, exchanging silly jokes that they'd picked up from their fathers and from the various people that they interacted with. Though neither one of them fully understood the crude undercurrent of the jokes, they found it funny that the adults had been using words like "bum" and "snot."_

_The river roared beside the group of children, partially drowning out Arnold's panicked squeals and Morgan's delighted giggles as she closed in on the boy. He was a notoriously fast little bugger, and he'd never been caught in a game of tag before. Perhaps that was why she was so intent on tagging him, proving to the rest of the boys that she was just as fast as they could be._

_"You can't catch me!" Arnold taunted, turning around to stick his tongue out. As if rising to the challenge, Morgan ran ahead with a sudden burst of speeding, pouncing on the boy. The pair of them laughed like mad, giggling as they rolled around on the ground. There revelry was abruptly ended when they tumbled into the river, plunging into the icy water._

_Morgan sputtered as the current dragged her along, whisking her downstream. She had been ripped away from Arnold, though the miller's son was hardly on her mind as she scrabbled to break the surface, to fill her lungs with air. She was barely aware of the splash that rippled through the water. She had completely forgotten about the presence of her brother and his friend until arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her out of the water._

_"Stop struggling! I've got you!" Guy hollered over the rushing water. He hauled Morgan from the water, panting with the considerable strain. Michael emerged from the water as well, carrying Arnold. Had Morgan not been so terrified, she would've been impressed with the impressive feat of strength._

_But Arnold's limp figure in Michael's arms distracted her from any feelings of awe or gratitude that she would've otherwise expressed. Michael laid the boy on the bank of the river, immediately breaking into a run, yelling something that Morgan chose not to decipher as he headed back to the village. Guy glanced over at Arnold, looking back down at Morgan, gently stroking her hair._

_"It's going to be alright," he said, trying to calm her down._

---

"It wasn't alright, Guy. It wasn't alright then, and it won't be alright now," Morgan panicked. "It was my fault that Arnold died, and it's my fault that we're stuck in this stupid cave!" Guy seized her by the front of the leather jacket, giving her a single, authoritative shake.

"Morgan, stop it! It isn't any good to dwell on the past! Trust me," his fervent plea trailed off as Morgan calmed down, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes. For a moment, they were silent. Then, before Guy fully registered what was happening, Morgan had slipped her arms around him in a tight embrace, resting her head on his chest. He slowly returned the gesture, patting her lightly on the back.

It wasn't anything like the rare occasion on which he hugged Marian. When he hugged Marian, there was something awkward about it. Guy had never actually courted anyone before, and there was an unfamiliarity to the emotions that seeped into his brain when he hugged the Lady of Knighton. When he was close to her, his mind was overridden with such ferocious passion that he could barely think straight, and when they actually hugged, he did so with such rigidity that he never really enjoyed it like he wanted to. He had always guessed that it was because he was not used to hugging such a beautiful girl.

When he hugged Morgan, such emotions were not present. Guy knew that it wasn't because Morgan was unfortunate looking, she had been blessed with the good looks that the rest of her family possessed. It was because when he looked at Morgan, he didn't see her as the grown woman that everyone else saw. He would always see the little girl with pigtails, laughing and jokingly trying to braid his hair. He didn't see Morgan as a pretty woman; he saw her as a little sister.

That's why he was hugging her now, even though logic dictated that he should've been trying to kill her. He could practically hear the Sheriff telling him not to bother with feelings of nostalgia. That's why he allowed her to silently cry into his chest, even though he had clearly told her to get a hold of herself. She was the last part of his childhood, the last reminder of the person that he had been. Though he had told her that it was better not to think about the past, he found that he could not sever his ties to it.

"Morgan, why did you choose the outlaws?" he asked. "You could've left. Hood has obviously smuggled plenty of people to safety. Why didn't you leave? Why did you have to join them?" Morgan lifted her head from his chest, her tear-streaked cheeks shining in the feeble amount of light that worked its way into the cave.

"Because I believe in the cause," she answered softly. "I believe in fighting for king and country and freeing the oppressed." Guy shook his head, frustrated with her answer, stepping back, dropping his arms to the side.

"You believe in foolish ideals," he corrected glumly, "You're just like Michael. You place faith in unachievable dreams. Do you really think that if King Richard comes back, everything will be well again? That suddenly everyone will have food and shelter and prosperity? Do you think that King Richard really cares about the poor in Nottinghamshire, or anywhere else? He barely cares for the nobility, let alone your so-called cause!" It all poured out as if he'd been waiting months to say it, an angry edge to his voice that Morgan was sure was meant for someone else's ears, possibly Robin's, maybe even the King's.

Guy hadn't realized how loud and angry he'd become until he caught the faint echo of his own voice as it bounced around in the cave. There, reverberating in their rock prison, was the core of his anger. He wasn't like the Sheriff. He didn't really believe in throwing away humanity. He didn't really believe that power and position were life's necessities. He believed that they were a means, a way to obtain that which he wanted the most, security and love. He hadn't joined the Black Knights to push himself along the road to power. He'd joined because he truly believed that Richard was a bad king. A king that would rather romp about in the sands than care after his own country. A king that demanded loyalty from his subjects, though he gave them none in return.

Richard's father had taken the Gisborne estate and divvied it up amongst several more "worthy" lords. Richard had done nothing to make it right. Richard had taken his forces to the Holy Lands, leaving England to rot.

"Is it really any different from what you believe in?" Morgan asked. "Do you really believe that the putting Prince John on the throne will make everything secure? Your power and position? Look around, Guy. England is dying. What do you gain if this whole scheme succeeds? So, you'll have position and power. So, what? You'll be put in charge of a dead country where the people have lost the will to continue."

"And you'll swing from a rope, fighting for a king that doesn't even care that you exist!" Guy retorted. He felt the brotherly warmth dissolving as he glared at Morgan, wondering just how the mood had shifted once again.

"Here we go again, becoming our other sides. This can't go on forever, Guy," Morgan said calmly. "I've made a choice, and you have to do the same."

"And what choice have you made?" Guy nearly snarled, bracing himself for the harsh answer that he had come to expect, waiting for her to tell him that she would fight for Robin, even if it meant writing him off.

"Guy, I will not turn my back on you." The reply was not at all in line with his expectations, and perhaps that is why he fixed her with a shocked stare, prompting her to continue. "Michael always taught me to do what I believed in, and I believe in the potential of good. Call it idealism, Guy, but I know that somewhere in all that leather is the Guy of Gisborne that pulled me out of the river. The Guy of Gisborne that had put his neck on the line to save Lady Marian." Morgan allowed Guy a moment to blush at her blunt observation.

"I will not speak against you when King Richard returns. As far as I'm concerned, I never saw you in the Holy Lands," she muttered, "but you must know that I can never advocate what you are doing. I will fight with Robin Hood." Guy didn't know how to react to what she was telling him. Part of him couldn't believe that she would still trust him, after all of the horrible things that he'd done. Part of him was grateful that she hadn't abandoned him. Part of him was enraged that she still had the audacity to flaunt her allegiance to Hood.

"Morgan, I don't know that I can promise the same," he admitted with a degree of shame to his voice. "I want to protect you, Morgan; you will always be like my sister, but I can't protect you, knowing what I know!"

"What are you talking about, Guy?" Morgan asked, hoping that he wouldn't blurt out what she was sure he was thinking.

"Don't insult me, Morgan. You and Allan. Did you really think that I wouldn't make the connection? Did you really think that I wouldn't see you sneak into Locksley every other night?" Guy asked sharply. Morgan smiled wanly, trying not to admit anything, though she knew that she was already caught. "I can't protect you from the Sheriff if he finds out, Morgan. He'll hang you and Allan without a second thought."

Morgan knew that that much was true. They had somehow reached the crux of their problems. Theirs wasn't a question of allegiance; Guy was with the Sheriff, and Morgan was with Robin Hood. Theirs was a question of acceptance. Could they honestly remain friends and accept that they'd have to face each other in battle? Could they truly trust each other, knowing that they could be forced to kill each other in the future?

There were things in life that bonded people together, forging eternal friendships. Guy and Morgan had had their share of such experiences, many of them tragic. They had laughed together, and they had lost together. She put her hands on his shoulders, looking him square in the eyes.

"Guy, you will forever be a big brother to me. I did not see you in the Holy Land, and you will not see me in Locksley anymore," she promised. "I will never try to hurt you, but if you strike at the gang, I will defend them." Guy nodded at her ultimatum, making one of his own.

"Morgan, you will forever be a little sister to me. I have never seen you with Allan. I will never try to hurt you, but if you stand in my way, I will be forced to remove you," he returned levelly. It sounded like the pacts that children made, meaning it with every fiber of their being. In a way, they were cementing their friendship, but at the same time, they were saying goodbye, the word that they usually worked so hard to avoid. There wouldn't be hatred in their future encounters, only understanding.

"Of course, this is all assuming that we'll even make it out of here alive," Morgan reminded jocularly, though her eyes indicated that she was panicking on the inside. Guy glanced around the cave, noting that the water had risen to Morgan's chest in the relatively short amount of time that it had taken for them to resolve the bulk of their problems.

"Be honest. What are the chances that Hood will get us out of here?" he asked. Morgan chewed on her thumbnail.

"The gang will think of something," she nodded with confidence that wasn't entirely solid. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as Guy. "They always do." That wasn't really the question. Of course, they'd think of something. The question was if they'd think of something in time. Morgan reflected on her dream with the flood. She looked down at the water that was rapidly filling the cave, grudgingly admitted that it had been correct. She was going to have to learn how to swim.

---

Alright, then! That's chapter four finished! I'm sorry that it was a bit angsty, what with Morgan's dark secret and Guy's sad reflections about the state of things.

I suppose you could say that their personal problems are pretty much solved, but there is still more difficulty ahead, mostly the bit where they're still trapped in the cave.

The next chapter will probably be a lot more gang-centric. There may be some WillAllan brotherhood!fluff, but don't hold me to that.

Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


	5. Thinking

Will felt bad for Allan. As he always did, he had automatically tried to imagine what the man was going through. He imagined that it was Djaq stuck in the cave instead of Morgan and instantly felt his stomach sink. Adding even more to his worry was the fact that Allan wasn't talking. It was probably the most quiet that Will had ever seen him. They were sitting in the camp, trying to come up with a solution to the problem.

"We can just move the rocks," Much suggested. Robin shook his head.

"If we move any of the rocks, they could come crashing down on us," he pointed out. Will was watching Allan. Upon hearing Much's suggestion, he'd perked up, ready to head back to the cave and implement the former manservant's plan. As soon as Robin shot it down, Allan had returned his gaze to the ground, looking more dejected than he had before. Will glanced over at Robin, catching his eye, silently communicating to him. He stood, tapping Allan on the shoulder.

"Walk with me," Will said, heading out of the camp, glad that Allan followed without question. The rest of the gang continued on as if nothing had happened, brainstorming as Will and Allan walked out of camp.

---

"I can't even talk to her," Allan said, leaning against a tree, hands shoved into his pockets. Will had heard that tone from Allan before. That tone, that cocktail of regret and desperation. _I'm sorry, alright? Really sorry. I never wanted to…_ Will had glared down at Allan that day, not wanting to hear a word of what he had said, not wanting to hear an apology, clinging to the anger that was writhing around inside him. Now that everything had had time to settle, Will looked at Allan with concern rather than rage. As he tended to do, he remained quiet, letting Allan know that it was safe for him to continue.

"All I can think about is the last time I saw her. Was there anything that I could've done differently? Did I take every opportunity to tell her that I love her? Does she know how much she means to me?" Allan asked, though he hardly expected Will to come up with any answers. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. The rain hadn't let up at all, and all he could think of was the cave filling with water and his fiancée trapped inside.

"She knows," Will suddenly answered. He didn't say anything else, but those two words were what Allan had needed to hear. He smiled weakly at Will, who was staring at him, eyes shining with concern. Their relationship had shifted dramatically over the past few months. They'd been best friends before Allan had been banished. Allan had hoped it would remain the same, but Will had turned his back on him, just as Allan had done to him.

For a period of time, Allan thought that Will would never forgive him. Even after he'd saved Will and the Fool from the gallows, the carpenter hadn't shown any indication of wanting to be friends again, and the behavior from the rest of the gang suggested that Will hadn't told them. Soon after, Allan had switched places with Will, undergoing torture in his stead. Even though Will had seemed grateful, he still didn't show any outwards signs of accepting him.

Then, when everything seemed to be ending, when Prince John's army had marched on Nottingham, Allan saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Initially, Will had told him that there was no hope for him. That he was with Gisborne, and there wasn't a way to come back. When things seemed especially hopeless, though, he shook Allan's hand, giving him a reassuring nod. It was what Allan had been waiting for ever since he'd been exiled from the gang. It was acceptance. Sure, proving himself to Robin had been on his short list, but proving himself to Will was different. Robin was his leader, but Will was his brother.

The fact that Will looked like he cared again almost made Allan forget about the present situation. Almost. He looked at Will, almost begging for him to talk, to distract him from the fact that he may never see Morgan again.

"Allan, it will be alright. I'm sure that we'll think of something," Will said firmly, putting a hand on Allan's shoulder. Allan nodded, trusting in what Will told him.

"Robin will go through Hell and high water before he lets anything happen to Morgan," Will continued, realizing what he'd said as it escaped his mouth. Perhaps it hadn't been the best phrase to use, but Allan didn't look upset. He looked thoughtful. It was the look that Will associated with Allan's insane schemes, many of which had gotten them into the castle in the past.

"Hell or high water," Allan repeated, standing and walking back to the camp. The outlaws had yet to think of anything that would help, and they all jumped slightly at Allan's sudden entrance.

"Hell or high water!" he exclaimed triumphantly, spreading his arms as if he'd just laid out the answer on a silver platter. Robin looked past Allan at Will, who simply shrugged. He certainly didn't think like Allan did. Allan seemed to understand that they weren't making the same connection that he was, so he continued.

"Morgan and Guy are in the cave. The flooding cave. High water," he started. For a second, Djaq was sure that Allan had snapped. He wasn't making much sense, but he seemed determined. "To counter high water, we need to make Hell." Out of context, the idea was nothing short of blasphemy, and the gang didn't quite get the context. Allan moved forward again.

"Hell!" he repeated loudly. "Fire! Greek fire!"

"But the ledger was destroyed," Much pointed out. Robin turned to Djaq.

"No, it wasn't," he muttered. Djaq's eyes lit up, and she immediately dashed to her bunk, reaching under her bedroll and extracting the ledger for Greek fire.

"I was so worried that I didn't think of it," she explained, excited by the prospect of using science to free her best friend. "I never get the chance to look at the ledger, so it wasn't the first thing on my mind." Her chatter died off as she flipped through the pages, nodding to herself.

"It's soaking wet outside," Will reminded. "How do we start a fire?"

"We may not have to," Djaq answered, turning the ledger to face the others, pointing at a meticulously drawn diagram. "Here. Lambert designed a special strain of the powder that reacts by concussion."

"Meaning?" Much asked.

"You don't need fire. The powder just needs to collide with something hard," Djaq grinned.

"Like a rock wall," Robin supplied. "How fast can you make a batch?" Djaq pored over the ledger, glancing over at her assortment of herbs and so forth.

"It will take several minutes to measure everything properly. Someone should go back to the cave and tell Morgan what's going on." Djaq had already busied herself with gathering the appropriate ingredients. Will moved to help her. Allan headed out immediately, followed by Much and Robin.

---

"Morgan!" Robin called, looking up at the sky, wishing that rain would just stop. He wasn't sure how high the water had gotten inside the cave, but he could hear talking from inside.

"Ow!" The grunt of pain had come from Guy. "Watch where you're climbing, Morgan!"

"Sorry," Morgan's voice came, and Robin could almost see the sheepish look on her face. "Walk over to the wall. Robin wants to talk to us."

"He wants to talk to you," Guy muttered. "He doesn't care that I'm even in here." _Too right_, Robin agreed.

"That's not really the point, though. Stop being a smart arse and walk over to that wall!" Much almost laughed at how bossy Morgan was being, but he was far too busy worrying about her safety.

"You don't have to hold on so tight," Guy muttered. Allan frowned. Why was Morgan holding on to Guy at all? He instantly scolded himself for thinking so selfishly in such a situation. He noticed the water seeping out of the minute openings in the collapsed rock. _The water rose, probably over Morgan's head. Guy is taller than she is, so he's carrying her, _he rationalized.

"Robin?" Morgan projected her voice, addressing the Earl of Huntington. "Tell me that you're going to get us out."

"Djaq is mixing Greek fire. We're going to use it to destroy the wall. You'll need to get as far back into the cave as you can," Much piped up, making sure that they were aware of the danger involved in the plan. Well, making sure that Morgan knew, anyway. He didn't particularly care where Gisborne stood.

"Just hurry up!" Morgan shouted back. "The water is up to Guy's shoulders!" Allan shot a panicked glance at Robin, who nodded.

"Alright, Morgan. We'll go tell Djaq to hurry," he promised, signaling to Much and Allan, heading back to the camp.

---

"They know how to make Greek fire?" Guy asked incredulously. Morgan glanced at the back of the cave, shrugging at Guy's question.

"I guess. What's Greek fire?" she asked as Guy waded to the back of the cave.

"It's that black powder that caused all that fuss last year," he replied.

"The powder that Lambert made?" Morgan asked, instantly regretting the question, noticing the distinct look of sorrow in Guy's eyes at the mention of Lambert's name. "Sorry, Guy. I shouldn't have asked."

"Morgan, I can't hold you up for much longer," he changed the subject. The water was up to his chin now. Morgan swallowed hard, trying not to panic. Her dream played through her head, and she exhaled.

"Then I need you to teach me how to swim."

---

"Careful," Djaq reminded as Will funneled the ground up ingredients into the small pouch. He still couldn't bring himself to agree with Greek fire as a weapon, but he found that he was slightly more accepting of its existence when it was being used to save his friend's life. He tied off the pouch, setting it gently on the table, reaching for another. Djaq had mixed enough of the powder to fill four of the pouches, enough to destroy the wall of rock that had sealed Morgan and Gisborne in the cave.

Will sighed internally. He was glad that they'd be able to save Morgan, but he almost wished that they could do so without saving Gisborne. Will glanced over at Allan as he walked back into the camp, noticing for the first time that he wasn't wearing the all black uniform that signified his allegiance to Gisborne and the Sheriff. It was almost like he was part of the gang again.

"How close are you to finished?" Allan asked, trying to be casual about it, though Will immediately spotted the panic in his eyes. Djaq however, kept her head down, making sure that every pouch was perfectly mixed and tied.

"We've got to attach these pouches to arrows. Robin," Djaq paused long enough for Robin to walk over to the table. "Robin, you will need to shoot all four of the arrows at once. As soon as the rock wall gives, the water will rush out, so shoot and get out of the way."

"What do we do about Gisborne?" Little John asked.

"What do you mean?" Allan asked, unable to focus his thoughts long enough to work out a problem.

"Well, when we free them, Gisborne will see you. He'll know that you were working with us, and he'll know that you know where the camp is," Little John pointed out levelly. Everyone looked to Allan, except for Djaq, who was absorbed in her work.

"Allan, you have to go back to Locksley," Robin instructed. Allan shook his head stubbornly.

"No. I'm not going anywhere until I know that she's safe," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"And if Guy asks you why you were with us?" Will asked.

"I'll tell him that I was only working with you to make sure that he made it out alive," Allan answered quickly.

"He'll believe that?" Much asked.

"He's believed every other lie that I've told him," Allan muttered. He heard the question, even though none of them said it. "Like, '_No, I don't know who Robin's informant is.' 'Night Watchman? Beats me!' 'They're always moving the camp. There's no way to find them if they don't want to be found._'" He listed the lies off, keeping the more personal ones, like his hand in Will's escape from the hangman, to himself. He locked eyes with Robin for the first time since their encounter in the Trip.

"Fine. Stay. But you'll have to drag him back to Locksley," Robin conceded. Allan couldn't be sure, but there was a familiar edge to Robin's instruction, reminiscent of the way that he would give him orders when he was a part of the gang. Had he not been overwhelmed with anxiety, he would've smiled.

---

"Don't think about sinking. Just keep kicking your legs," Guy commanded, treading water next to Morgan, trying to make sure that she could at least do the same. At first, she had been more than reluctant to let go off him. Guy thought that she might have actually fractured one of his ribs, the way that she had clung to him when he let go of her. In retrospect, he probably should have warned her, but he pushed the thought aside.

When he had learned to swim, he'd taken a few weeks, given lessons by his mother, who was patient and forgiving of his first, failed attempts. Given the fact that they were trapped in a cave, and he could barely touch the bottom, he had decided that there was no room for either one of his mother's more notable traits. Slowly, he swam backwards, moving away from Morgan, who took notice and immediately panicked.

He felt bad, but he knew from experience that jeopardy was often the best teacher. He took the verbal abuse that Morgan sputtered in the time that her head was above the water in stride, repressing a grin as she slowly paddled through the water towards him. He kept moving backwards, watching her movements.

"Guy!" she snapped, sinking underwater for a few seconds. She quickly propelled herself to the surface, gasping in air. "You arse!" Guy ignored the accusation, continuing to move backwards. Morgan was so frustrated that she didn't notice that she was spending less time under the water, or that her awkward sort of dog paddle slowly became an awkward sort of front crawl.

"Stop messing with me!" she managed, wriggling out of Guy's leather coat, finding that it hindered her movements.

"Why should I? You're swimming just fine," Guy pointed out, moving forward, grabbing a hold of his coat before it sank. Morgan looked at herself, noticing that she was indeed swimming, as poor as her form was. Her gaze snapped back to Guy, who only smiled smugly. In her surprise, she'd stopped moving, only treading water again when she started to sink.

"Thank you," she mumbled.

"Don't thank me yet," Guy replied grimly. "I've just found another problem with our situation."

"What's that?" Morgan asked.

"The ceiling," he muttered, glancing upward. Over the past few minutes in which Guy had forced her to swim, Morgan hadn't really been paying attention to her surroundings. The water had risen significantly, which brought Morgan to Guy's newfound problem. The ceiling of the cave was getting quite close. Even if she now knew how to clumsily swim about, she doubted that she could learn to breathe underwater once the cave was filled.

"Bugger," she said simply, not knowing what else she could say.

---

Right now, I am slamming my head against a desk, sincerely apologizing for how long it took me to write this chapter, only to leave it on a cliff hanger. I'm so very sorry!

The hardest part, though, has passed, and it should take me far less time to get the next chapter up!

I hope that you all enjoyed the WillAllan!friendship and SwimInstructor!Guy.

Honestly, I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter. XD

Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Please review!


	6. Acting

There was water slowly leaking out of every space in the rock wall, which meant that the water had risen above the top of the cave's mouth. It was a high-ceilinged cave, but Morgan and Guy were quickly running out of time. Much frowned. How did these things keep happening to them? He glanced over at Robin. The man was a magnet for trouble, and it just so happened that the people that had chosen to follow him into the woods were exactly the same.

It wasn't that they had bad luck. On the contrary, a large part of their survival could be attributed to the group's serendipity. No, they weren't an unlucky group, but they were constantly running into obstacles. Much liked to call the peculiar pattern "Much's Law." Anything that could go wrong would go wrong, but they'd somehow find a way out of it, usually unscathed. He looked at the cave.

Usually. They'd suffered losses before. They'd rescued two mothers and a baby, but lost Roy. They'd gotten the Pact, but they'd lost Edward. This situation was different. No matter what happened, they wouldn't gain anything. They only stood to lose Morgan.

Much felt his stomach flip. He thought back, trying to remember the last time that he'd spoken to Morgan. It had been at dinner the night before. He'd asked her to pass him the salt that they'd acquired in Nottingham earlier in the week. Rather than handing it to him, she had taken the pouch and thrown it across the camp, accidentally hitting Much in the side of the head.

Unfortunately, it had been a very trying day for Much, and being hit in the head with a pouch full of salt was the last straw. He'd yelled at her, ignoring her string of apologies until she had given up, crawling into bed without even finishing her dinner. Much adjusted his cap. He didn't know how he'd live with it if Morgan didn't make it, and the last words he'd said to her were "_Are you aware of just how ridiculous you are sometimes?_"

Much looked skyward, ignoring as the fat raindrops fell on his face. _Dear Lord,_ he prayed,_ please, don't let Morgan die. I promise; I will never call her ridiculous again._ Much paused, realizing that that might have been a hard promise to keep, as Morgan often did things that were a bit ridiculous, most of them involving childish arguments with Robin. _I promise that I will never call her ridiculous unless she does something exceptionally ridiculous_, he amended.

"Much!" Robin called, his tone telling the former manservant that Robin had been calling him for some time now.

"Yes, Master?" Much replied, looking over at Robin. Robin was shaking his head at the pouches of black powder, tied securely around the arrows in his hand.

"I can't shoot all four of them at once," he admitted, "The pouches make them too heavy in the front. I need you to take one. Will, take one." Robin hesitated, looking at the third arrow, knowing that he couldn't shoot both of them at once. He sighed.

"Allan, take it," he said, handing the arrow over. Allan gripped the shaft of the arrow, looking uncertainly at Robin. He was never sure where he stood with his former leader. He knew that there was a part of Robin that wanted him to die; he'd seen it the day that the gang had secured the Great Pact. But lately, especially after Allan had saved Will from the dungeon's torture chamber, there were moments where Allan almost felt like he was in the gang again, and the fact that Robin had entrusted him with a highly dangerous weapon seemed to back up this particular line of thinking.

Robin gave him a nod, notching his own arrow, aiming steadily at the center of the rock wall. The others followed, waiting for a signal to shoot.

"If you don't hit in the same area, it won't be enough to dislodge the rock," Djaq warned. Allan pulled the arrow back, nudging Will in the arm.

"No pressure, right?" he grinned, glad that Will returned the gesture.

---

"Morgan," Guy mumbled. Morgan had allowed herself to sink underwater a bit, allowing her arms and legs a much needed rest. Guy had taught her how to tread water and swim, but he'd neglected to tell her how physically taxing it was. Guy gave her another second before tapping her on the shoulder. "Morgan!"

"Yes?" Morgan asked, doing her best to keep her head above the water. For a moment, Guy merely stared at her, losing his resolve to tell her. He took a deep breath. If he was going to die, which would happen at any moment if Hood didn't hurry up, he wanted someone to hear the words that he'd avoided saying but felt so often.

"Morgan, I am afraid," he started slowly, checking for Morgan's reaction. She could tell that it was difficult for him to say what he was saying, so she kept quiet, allowing him to continue. "I'm afraid that I will never see her again. I'm afraid that, should we die here, she will not remember me. I've told her so many times how I feel, and she's never once returned the sentiment."

Morgan didn't know what to say. Guy was using the last few moments that they had left to talk about Marian. Of course, Morgan knew exactly how Guy felt about Marian. Unfortunately, she also knew exactly how Marian felt about Guy. She could've told Guy that he'd have a chance, if they were rescued in time, but she knew that it was a flat out lie. Marian was Robin's girl, through and through.

"Guy, don't talk like we're going to die here, because we're not. We're going to be rescued." It was clear from her tone that she believed every word, and she was implying that Guy should do the same. "Besides, I'm sure Marian will remember you. You're a hard person to forget."

"Why, because I terrorize the populace? Because I'm intimidating and reputably ruthless and cold?" Guy snapped. Morgan stared at his sudden aggression.

"I was going to say because of the leather," she corrected. Guy glared, not appreciating the light-heartedness that accompanied Morgan's concern. She was, as the Sheriff would describe, an insufferably happy person.

"Morgan, I'm being serious. I've never loved anyone like I love her. I don't want her to think of me like that," he snapped.

"Not being funny, Guy, but I know how you feel. I know what rejection feels like, and I know it hurts, but there's nothing that you can really do about it. You can't force someone to love you. You can only tell them how you feel, and hope that they don't break you." Morgan couldn't recall another occasion where she'd given such sincere sounding advice, but felt like dirt giving it. It was almost like she was sending Guy into battle without a sword. Technically, she hadn't told a lie. She'd been rejected before. Be that as it may, she couldn't help but think that giving Guy false hope about his chances with Marian was just as bad as any lie that she'd ever told.

"You're a terrible liar," Guy muttered, and for a second Morgan thought that he knew about Marian and Robin. He shook his head. "You've never been rejected before. Not the free-spirited, friendly Morgan Weaver." There was a bitter edge to his voice that Morgan almost resented. He noticed the look she was giving him and scoffed.

"What? It's true. You've always been the little social butterfly. People love you. Even the Sheriff thinks you're funny. Who in their right mind would reject you?" he asked.

"Plenty of people," she muttered, suddenly wanting to get away from Guy, to leave behind the conversation that had so quickly gone south. Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere to go. The water was starting to overtake them, but they were already at the cave's ceiling.

"You still think that we'll be rescued?" Guy asked, breaking the momentary silence.

"Depends on how long we can hold our breath," Morgan replied, taking in a lungful of air before the water went over her head.

---

"Fire!" Djaq signaled, watching with bated breath as the four men released their arrows. They seemed to fly in slow motion, arching through the air below slamming into the center of the rock wall. They looked away at the intensity of the flash created by the explosion, backing up in case the dam broke.

There was the sound of rock moving, and soon enough a torrent of water poured forth, roaring as it rushed out of the cave, depositing a drenched Morgan and Guy onto the forest floor. Morgan stumbled to her feet, gasping in air, slightly agitated to find that it was no drier outside the cave than it was inside it. Guy remained on the ground, steadying his breathing, allowing his screaming muscles the chance to rest.

"What do we do about Gisborne?" Much asked.

"Nothing." The reply didn't come from Robin, which was what the gang expected, but from Morgan, who stumbled in front of Guy, sitting between him and the gang.

"Nothing?" Much asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Morgan repeated. "Just let him go back to Locksley." The gang turned to Robin, who was staring at Morgan, not saying a word.

"He saved me life," Morgan pointed out. "He could've let me drown."

"He also tried to kill the king," Will countered, wondering if Morgan had gone completely out of her skull. "And us."

"Many times," Much tacked on under his breath, still waiting for Robin to say something.

"Let him go back to Locksley," Morgan pleaded. "Please?"

"Let him go," Robin quietly agreed. Much's jaw threatened to unhinge as he, along with the rest of the gang, stared at Robin, who started walking back to camp. Morgan turned around, getting to her feet and offering a hand to Guy. He pulled himself up, looking past Morgan as the rest of gang followed their leader, leaving them alone.

"That was foolish, Morgan," Guy reprimanded. "It would've been more beneficial for you to let them kill me."

"You're welcome," she muttered, giving him a quick hug before turning him in the general direction of Locksley, pushing him in the back. "Now, rabbit off." Guy rolled his eyes, walking back towards Locksley. As soon as he was out of sight, Morgan felt a hand on her shoulder. Had she not been absolutely exhausted, she would've jumped.

"Relax, Morgan. It's me." It exactly what Morgan needed to hear, and she turned on heel, throwing her arms around her fiancée. As tightly as Morgan was hugging him, Allan hugged tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head. He glanced down, noticing the stain on her ruined shirt.

"Morgan, are you alright?" he asked, stepping back to look her in the eyes. He was distracted by the large, violently purple bruise that circled around her left eye. He gently ran his thumb on the outer edge of the bruise, the startled look on his face speaking for him.

"I started it," Morgan answered before he could ask, resting her head against his chest, never wanted to let go of him again. "Allan, I was scared. I thought…"

"I thought I'd never see you again," Allan replied in a low voice. "Morgan, do you have plans for tonight?" Morgan frowned, shaking her head.

"Other than changing into some clothes that aren't soaking wet, not really," she responded with a grin, looking up at him.

"Well, Thornton will tell Guy that I'm out looking for him. So, I don't have to be back in Locksley until tomorrow morning," he muttered, placing his forehead on hers.

---

"Well, what's taking her?" Much asked. Both he and Djaq were waiting impatiently at the entrance of the camp. Much was eager to make sure that Morgan got something to eat, doubting that she'd had anything sustaining since dinner the night before. Djaq, on the other hand, had instantly noticed Morgan's injuries and wanted to make sure that they were properly tended to.

"Relax," Robin muttered, stretching out across his bedroll, staring into the fire.

"Relax? Morgan nearly died! How can you be so calm?" Much asked.

"Not to belittle Morgan's near death experience, but you also let Gisborne go," Will muttered.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Gisborne is the only thing keeping Marian safe from the Sheriff," Robin confessed. "When the king returns, he'll get what he deserves." There was a calm, collected air in his voice that convinced the rest of the gang.

"Still, that doesn't explain where Morgan is," Djaq reminded.

"She's with Allan," Robin explained flatly. "He said that he'd have her back by morning."

"How do you know that?" Little John asked.

"He told me," Robin replied calmly.

"Where is he taking her?" Much asked. Robin suddenly became very quiet, his eyes never leaving the fire. It wasn't his place to tell them that.

---

She was standing waist deep in the water, but it no longer worried her. She knew what her dream meant. Morgan had spent her whole life depending on other people to help her make decisions. Whether it was Michael or Robin or even Guy, she'd always looked to other people, afraid of assuming responsibility. As the water rose, Morgan began to swim.

She had made decisions in the past twenty four hours that had changed everything. She knew that she couldn't fall back on others to help her anymore. After all, she was a grown woman, and it was about time that she learned how to swim.

---

When Will woke up the next morning, Morgan was in her loft, sound asleep, her left arm hanging over the side. She'd returned late into the night, barely making it through the door before Djaq and Much were upon her, fussing over her injuries and the state of her clothes and the fact that she hadn't eaten. Other than answering their questions, she'd been very quiet, not talking about what had happened in the cave, or where she'd gone afterwards.

Robin had known, and Much had spent the rest of the night after Morgan had gone to sleep trying to wheedle an answer out of his best friend. Robin wouldn't budge, only saying that it wasn't his place to say anything. Of course, that only made Much more curious, but Robin was being particularly stubborn about the matter.

Will stifled a yawn, sitting up in his bed, hunched down so that he didn't hit his head, bringing himself about eye level to Morgan's hand. He squinted, thinking that maybe he was seeing things in his currently groggy state. Rubbing his eyes and taking a second look, he realized that he hadn't made a mistake at all. There was a new ring on Morgan's finger.

"Morning, Will," Much muttered, stirring the contents of the cooking pot, preparing breakfast. Will didn't reply, causing Much to look over at the carpenter, somewhat amused by the look of surprise on his face. "You alright?" In response, Will point at Morgan's hand, drawing attention to the new ring. Much's eyes widened and he looked at Will.

"Did she?" he started to asked.

"I think she did," Will replied. For a moment, Much was completely silent.

"I suppose we shall have to get her a toasting fork," he finally said.

---

The end! Hurray for shotgun weddings! I know; it was a very quick engagement, but I figured it would be okay.

Not really a lot to say about this one. It was mostly a really long introspection, but I'm pretty happy with how it all turned out, even though it took forever.

There'll be a definite gap between this fic and my next Morgan Story. I need to see the finale before I can really flesh the next story out properly, so it'll at least be Sunday before I post another new story.

I will, however, try to get the next chapter of "We're Outlaws, Not Wetnurses" (co-written with the amazing RixxiSpooks) up by Friday. However, I have to get my wisdom teeth out this week. So, in the event of a delay, you know what happened.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks to DeanParker, Gwenyth Hunter, PetiteDiable, Soapy-Liedown, Stripysockz, RixxiSpooks, Mizco, Marian, Gewher, GlitteringEtiquette, PrincessinHiding, scorpiagirl93, Gilari, ZebraBlonde, and TheOutlawsPrincess for reviewing!


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